


Buttercup

by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat



Series: Bailor's Femslash February 2021 [3]
Category: Lumberjanes
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Flowers, Fluff, Nature Walks, buttercup - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat/pseuds/two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat
Summary: The Zodiac cabin goes for a nature walk.
Relationships: Emily/Wren (Lumberjanes)
Series: Bailor's Femslash February 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139363
Kudos: 6
Collections: Femslash February





	Buttercup

The Zodiacs don’t have a counselor, anymore. They don’t know where she went. 

So  _ they _ decide what they want to do each day, all six of them, together. In the mornings they sit on their bunks together in the cabin, Hes and Diane close together, sharing a bunk, Emily and Wren playing rock-paper-scissors, Mackenzie kicking around that old soccer ball she keeps under her bed, Barney flipping through their copy of the Lumberjanes Manual. They sit and talk and propose activities to each other, and then they take a vote. 

Today, Hes offers “Go for a hike to earn some wildlife-based badges.” Diane says “Sneak out of camp, pull a heist, sell the goods, split the money, and then split up and never see each other again.” Wren poses, “Something music-related, maybe?” and Mackenzie simply says, “Sports.” 

They take a vote, and Hes’s idea wins (Diane’s is in second place - Barney was the tiebreaker) and they pull on their shoes and they pack up their bags and they get ready for a hike in the woods, Hes and Diane leading the way, Barney and Mackenzie striking up a conversation as they walk out the door, and Emily knows that they’re going to leave her behind again because she’s slow, and she’s told them before that she’s okay being a bit late to join the pack (she knows how long it takes her just to tie her shoes, she doesn’t want to keep them waiting) and so she expects the screen door to slam shut behind them but when she looks up, finally ready to leave, Wren’s standing there holding the door open. 

“You waited?” Asks Emily. And then she mentally slaps herself - it was a stupid question, of course she waited, she’s  _ right here,  _ Em you’re supposed to be smarter than this…

“Yup!” Says Wren, word bouncing and popping on her tongue. She sounds more upbeat than normal. “C’mon, let’s go - Hes and Diane are  _ this close  _ to revising the cabin rules again, and we can’t let them do it without us.” 

Emily smiles at her. Wren holds the door open for her, and soon they’re walking side by side down the worn dirt path that goes out the back of the cabin and into the woods. Wren grabs her hand and holds it as they walk, though Emily doesn’t think much of it. She’s focused on the birds in the trees, the squirrels and the chipmunks and voles and moles and mice and more rustling in the grass, the sound of Diane and Hes bickering playfully up ahead of them, Barney and Mackenzie in the middle playing rock-paper-scissors as they walk, fingers moving faster thanks to Wren’s extensive tutoring in ASL (once you start using your hands to talk, you find out how fast they can move, and it’s incredible, Emily loves Wren’s ASL lessons…) 

They end up in a clearing not far away from camp - they try to stay close, after all, they’re  _ not  _ the Roanokes - and Hes takes a moment to survey the area before stopping, opening up her Lumberjanes Manual (she and Barney have matching ones, though Hes’s is a good deal older) and flipping open to a page that Emily can only assume is titled “What To Do When You’re Not Technically The Counselor But You’ve Fallen Into That Weird Near-Counselor Position Due To The Case Of Your Real Counselor’s Mysterious Forest-Related Disappearance” and she starts to read. 

“Okay scouts,” says Hes, trying to play the counselor, trying to fill that void Vanessa left. “Remember that while walking through the Forest, take the time to look around, experience the world as it comes together in symphony, but also to watch for nature’s soloists.” She snaps the book shut. “Well. That made very little sense. Today, we’re going to be exploring ecosystems and pressing flowers and junk.” She tucks the book neatly back in her backpack and says, “Go forth and earn some badges!!” And the girls all give her that  _ aye aye, Captain  _ look before turning away and beginning to examine various plants. 

“I still don’t understand the purpose of this,” Diane mutters, picking up a pine cone. 

“It’s a seed pod,” Barney says, helpfully. 

Diane snorts. “Now you’re just making up words.” 

Emily sits down at the edge of the clearing, right where the trees start to cast their shadows again, and she takes out her notebook and starts taking notes; she does this, when she doesn’t know what else to do. Writes down what’s going on, where she is, how she feels (though that part can get confusing - she can never really tell how she feels, it’s all a guess-and-check game she’s constantly playing with herself) and she doesn’t realize that Wren’s taken a seat beside her until she starts to talk. 

“Lookit this,” Wren says, picking up a little golden buttercup, holding it gently in her hands. 

“Aw come on Wren,” Emily says, “remember the whole leave no trace thing? They drilled us all on it, first day of camp… take nothing but pictures, make nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints…” 

“Oh really? Who said that?” Wren smiles. Emily’s awful at reading expressions, but she’s pretty sure that this one means  _ teasing.  _ Because it’s Wren, she assumes it’s playful. She plays along. 

“Smokey Bear,” Emily mutters, and starts doodling the little dude in her notebook, ONLY YOU! CAN PREVENT FOREST FIRES and all. 

“Spoil sport. There’s some sort of kid’s game with these things, isn’t there?” Wren asks, tone flat but eyes sparkling. She twirls the fragile flower in between her fingertips. “Something about holding it underneath your chin…” 

Emily sighs. “It means you like butter, right? If you hold it under your chin and you glow gold?”

“Yes!” Says Wren, snapping her fingers. “That’s it!” She takes the flower and holds it under her chin like it’s the most serious, dignified activity in the world. “Miss Emily of Lumberjanica,” she says, changing her voice to be all snooty-sounding. “Do I like butter?”

Emily watches Wren’s face light up in the golden glow, and she can’t resist joining in the game; she shuts her notebook and makes sure it’s safe in her bag before responding, “Darling Wren, it appears the prophets smile upon you today.” 

“Is that so?”

“Truly; it appears you  _ do  _ love butter!” 

“Splendid!” Wren laughs, and claps her hands together, dropping the flower, forgetting about it for a moment. “Your turn.”

“Um,” Emily pauses. She sighs. “This is gonna sound weird, but I really don’t feel comfortable holding that under my chin - I don’t like things that are  _ just  _ out of sight, I like being able to see things so that I know they’re there, especially if I can feel them, in this case touching my chin, but I can’t actually  _ see _ them… it makes me feel weird. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay!” Wren says. She picks a new flower from the carpet of wildflowers all around them. Another buttercup, a bit bigger than the last one. “Could I tuck this behind your ear? Yellow’s a good color for you.” 

Emily nods. She can at least see when a flower’s tucked behind her ear (and she’s used to it, anyway, thanks to her habit of sticking pencils behind her ears and in her braids when she’s thinking) and finds she doesn’t mind it as much. 

“How do I look?” She asks. 

Wren smiles. “Beautiful.” 

They sit under the tree together and play hand games, the type that Emily thought she’d left behind in elementary school when everyone decided that being fun was childish, the type of games that Wren seems to love. Wren borrows Diane’s polaroid camera to take a selfie of the two of them, and they retreat into a darker, shadier part of the grove to shake it out, and Wren sings  _ Shake it like a polaroid picture…  _ except those are the only lyrics in the song that she knows, so she tries to fill in the rest from context, and Emily laughs. 

Emily wishes Vanessa were here to see this; she hopes that one day, they’ll at least be able to show her the pictures.


End file.
